moment he knew it all, all her sorrow, her pain. He grieved for her and admired her for the strength and will that kept her going.
His mouth closed over hers, tasting her, her spirit, her soul, as she tasted him.
It was a gift she offered him and he to her and he knew it, knew how precious it was as something within him opened to take what she offered.
His long strong body was pressed against hers and to Delae’s surprise she found her hands skimming up the long lean muscles of his back and felt them flex beneath her hands as he drew her closer.
Fire such as she’d never known raced beneath her skin, setting heart, soul, mind and body ablaze.
Dorovan speared his long fingers into the rich abundance of her brilliant hair, feeling the curls close around each one as his mouth took hers. Her hair was silken and springy within his fingers, so different from his people. Suddenly he wanted to explore her, to seek out all the differences in her and to define the likenesses. Pleasure and anticipation rushed through him. What would it be to touch her, to feel her - to share with her?
In one movement he swept her up in his arms.
“Dorovan,” she breathed, half in protest.
Gently, he brushed his mouth over hers.
“Hush,” he said, “I know.”
So much stood between them. It was unheard of.
He did know and yet he still did it.
Delae wanted to weep; from relief, from need.
Dorovan set her on her feet by her bed only long enough to kiss her once again, sliding his hands over her to brush both her robe and the threadbare nightdress beneath it from her shoulders. They slid to the floor with a soft whisper of sound, leaving her bared and breathless.
“Lovely,” he breathed and she looked up at him in astonishment and wonder that he, an Elf, should think so, think one of her race so.
He smiled to see it. To him she was.
She was so small - compared to most of his folk - but sweetly curved and rounded in all the places a woman should be.
Sliding his hands down her arms he caught her around the waist, looking down and over her, letting his pleasure and satisfaction show clearly, as he would to another of his kind.
In wonder, Delae touched his face - just the lightest caress of her fingertips along his cheek - as her lips parted.
His eyes seemed to glow, a small smile curved his beautiful mouth.
She took in every inch of his face. His beauty nearly destroyed her but what she saw in his eyes did, destroying her fragile composure.
Watching his face almost shyly, she ran her hands over Dorovan’s chest, feeling the strong curved muscles there and her eyes widened with delight.
Because he knew she wouldn’t, he stripped off his tunic and watched her eyes grow round as she spanned his chest with her hands. Dorovan almost had to laugh at her evident pleasure in touching him.
She looked so much like a child faced with a wonder that his heart broke for her. It was so little for him to give. And so much. He longed to caress her himself but he gave her this moment.
Delae couldn’t get enough of touching him, of running her hands over all the beautiful sculpted lines of him. He was amazing to look at, a delight to touch, his skin beneath her fingers like warmed silk stretched over the firm curves of his muscles.
Curiosity warred within her; what did the rest of him look like?
Her gaze flashed up to his, a little sideways glance, almost abashed, as she reached for the tie to his trews.
Slowly, she tugged on the string that closed them, unconsciously seductive.
Curious, she paused with one hand on the tie while she slid the other lightly along the silken cloth to feel what was beneath it… He was rigid beneath the cloth.
His pleasure was evident in his pale eyes.
It astonished her, who was so used to rejection.
Dorovan looked down, to see Delae looking up at him in obvious delight that she could do this to him.
For a moment, her gaze dropped, widened, and she blinked. Her lips parted on a sigh.
Had his body not already grown as taut as it had, it would’ve grown even more so then.
Involuntarily, he groaned.
Delae’s gaze shot up to his.
Another groan escaped him at her touch, at that look.
He held his gaze on hers as she tugged and his trews slid free.
Gently he curled